


Alternate Realities

by emma98



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Darcy and Steve grow up together!, Darcy and Steve spiral through a large and varied list of alternate realities, F/M, Knight Steve/stableboy disguised Darcy!, Noir Detective Steve and Mystery Dame Darcy!, all the darcy's and all the Steve's, background buckynat in places, basically this is a dozen drabbles that i may write full length fic for someday, darcy is a chorus girl during the USO Tour!, lots of other characters in background roles, thank you fic for one million words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 12:54:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14189385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emma98/pseuds/emma98
Summary: Darcy had only been trying to casually flirt with Steve Rogers as he ran security for Jane's science excursion.She had been adjusting her cleavage as covertly as possible when the sky ripped open and began raining interdimensional fire blood.Now, she and Steve are tumbling through infinite versions of their story, and if Darcy doesn't choose the right Steve, our reality will lose them forever.





	Alternate Realities

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChrissiHR](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrissiHR/gifts).



> This fic goes out to the last winner of my 1,000,000 word giveaway, Chrissihr. Chrissihr is FANTASTIC in her ways as both a human being and a writer. She is lovely and deserves 1,000,000 words dedicated to her. 
> 
> She sent me a picture of a line of Steve's all walking together, a really fantastic fan art of all of his various outfits and costumes. And while I think we both thought at the time it would be a big ole Steve orgy, it wound up being this experiment of mine, where I wrote all of these AU scenes. and as I wrote the au scenes, I realized how much I wanted to write them all.

* * *

 

_ 2018 _

 

The first time that Darcy Lewis met Steve Rogers, birds sang.  Well, screeched. The very first time her gaze landed on that tall, muscular, beautiful man, the skies opened up.  Literally, just a big scratch across the sky, dripping fire and brimstone and something that Jane called biterritorial oxidation fragments.  Essentially, the sky was scratched open and it rained bloody fire. 

 

Thank Frigga for Bruce Banner, and more importantly, the Hulk, that big green softie.  Because he managed to grab both Jane and Dr. Erik Selvig under one meaty, olive green arm and use the other arm to grab onto a big strip of metal roofing, ripping it off and yanking it over him and the two screaming scientists for cover.  Darcy had been on the other side of the observational field, by the van, watching Steve Rogers run the security detail. 

 

She was just watching.  Not drooling.

 

And she certainly had not been adjusting her cleavage to look it's absolute best.  Nope. That would have been silly, and she wouldn't have been in danger of death by bleeding sky fire if she had just stayed with Jane instead of asking her to metaphorically hold her beer while she failed at flirting with a supersoldier.

 

"DARCY!" Jane screeched from her place with the Hulk.  Erik was screaming too, but the Hulk's thumb was currently shoved in the older man's mouth haphazardly, so he couldn't really articulate that well.  

 

Darcy was sure he was screaming out in concern for her as she tried to channel her inner Natasha Romanoff and dodge bleeding sky fire while keeping her hair flawless and her boobs perfect.  

 

"MOTHER FUCKING FUCKER IT BURNS!" Darcy wailed out as a tiny drop of bloody sky fire splashed and sizzled on the skin of her right forearm.  It was probably the worst pain she had ever felt. Worse than the paper cut she had gotten putting together Jane's Stark Industries funding request that first time, and that had required stitches.  It wasn't the heat of it. Something strange and foreign seeped into her skin and she could feel an awful dread spreading throughout her body quickly. "Jane? JANE?!?! What's it do?!"

  
  


Another drop hit her and Darcy fell to her knees.  Jane was doing a very impressive combination move that involved screaming at the tippity top of her lungs while also sobbing uncontrollably.

 

Honestly, it would have been awesome to see in a slow motion playback, with the sound cut out and replaced with the stirring and dramatic crescendo of strings. No one scream-cried as good as Jane Foster.  It was something about how epic her beautiful face was, honestly. 

 

Darcy wanted to ruminate on that.  Her friend's beauty and her obvious worry and care about Darcy's well being as the bleeding sky fire came down faster from the split in the sky.  She wanted to focus on how Erik was actively trying to break the Hulk's hold. She wanted to focus on the fact that the Falcon had given her a saucy little wink when he and Steve Rogers had arrived that morning for the science excursion that had gone horribly awry.  And how Steve Rogers had smacked Sam Wilson right upside the back of his head.

 

She wanted to focus on anything else.  She absolutely did not want to focus on the fact that she was going to die in a swamp in West Virginia, burned to death from the inside out from a bleeding fire that came from a mysterious scratch in the sky.  

 

She closed her eyes and hoped that she looked heroic.  She hoped that the music on the soundtrack would be a bittersweet, strong unified note and not the 'whump whump' sound from a comedy soundtrack.

 

"Miss Lewis."

 

Darcy blinked her eyes opened and looked around and more specifically up, where a large, round metal shield was blocking her view of the terror raining down from the broken sky.  She looked from the familiar shield to the man holding it above their heads, crouched down to make himself compact against her so they could both fit. 

 

"Woah," she whispered.

 

"Are you alright?" Steve looked down at the two sizable burn marks on her right arm.  He touched her skin with the tips of his fingers and gasped and pulled away as an otherworldly lavender light exuded from the point of contact.  "What is---are you alright?"

 

Darcy wanted to tell him that the touch he had placed on her felt way better than the evil secretions from the treacherous sky.  It had felt like every piece of her was singing for one brief millisecond. She wanted to thank him for saving her. Maybe say something quippy about this being old hat for him, but delightfully new to her.  

 

She wanted to say a lot of things, but only smiled and fell face forward into him, completely unconscious.

 

* * *

 

_ Reality #1781, Year 1923 _

 

Darcy didn't like lace one bit.  As a matter of fact, she didn't like this fancy dress one bit at all.  For one, the sleeves had lace on the ends and when she went to scratch at it, the short hem went up and she knew that her bloomers were showing, and it was inappropriate for church and those old biddies were scowling at her as she itched and moved and danced in and out of her seat.

 

But she didn't care, mostly because she was all of four years old at the time.

 

And because those old biddies were stupid.  She gave them the stink eye and stuck out her tongue at them.

 

And she would have gotten away with it too, if it weren't for the little laugh coming from the end of the pew.  Darcy stopped her irritated dancing around and glared down at the end of the pew and saw Missus Rogers shushing her loudmouthed son, who was staring down at her in delight.  

 

Darcy gave her best stink eye to little Stevie Rogers and stuck her tongue out extra hard at him, causing him to laugh uproariously just when the Priest asked for silence.

 

"Steven, hush!" Missus Rogers admonished.

 

And then the trouty mouthed little bastard made a face that would have made the angels look dastardly in comparison, and pointed one little finger at Darcy, wordlessly tattling.

 

Missus Rogers was not so impressed with the face that Darcy was currently pulling.  She quickly and silently got up from her pew and reached for Darcy, picking her up and off of her feet and putting her on the pew right between herself and Steven.  

 

"Young lady, the sister expected me to mind you while she set up the breakfast downstairs, now, be minded, if you please," Missus Rogers scolded.  

 

"You're a mouse!" Darcy hissed at five-year-old Stevie Rogers, who had the good grace to look confused.

 

"I don't even like cheese," Stevie fired back in a whisper.  

 

"Hush," Missus Rogers ordered both children.

 

Darcy began itching and squirming in her seat, which was difficult in her tight confines.  Stevie was crammed tight against her and every wiggle was rattling his whole body on the pew.  And it became worse when Darcy realized there was more lace on the woefully short hem of her stupid dress and she began itching there too, sitting halfway on top of Stevie in some moments.

 

"Quit it!" Steve whined quietly.  

 

"ITCHY!" Darcy countered, getting her bony elbow to grind into Steve's side and then making a pitiful whining noise as if SHE had been the one to be jabbed with the hardest elbow known to man.

 

Stevie huffed out an impatient grunt before reaching up and around the squirmy little girl with his arms, holding her still and tight.  Missus Rogers turned at the indignant squeak from Darcy and surveyed the little ones in a tight embrace, looking like a pair of miniature sweethearts on their first date.

 

"Sweet angels," Missus Rogers cooed, before turning back to the sermon.

 

"HORSIE SHIT!" Darcy countered, or would have if something hadn't of pressed to her mouth to get her to stop talking.  She blinked and looked down towards her lips and was surprised to see Stevie Rogers pressing against them, more accurately, his wet, slimy mouth pressing against hers.

 

She reckoned they stayed like that for quite some time, namely out of shock.  She'd never seen anyone kiss before in real life, except for the nuns kissing her forehead when she'd done something sweet for them, like fetched their shoes, or not thrown a tantrum when she'd had to be bathed.  She didn't much care for the kisses, she much preferred when they gave her sweets instead.

 

But here stupid Stevie Rogers was, holding her tight and pressing slimy lips on hers and not even budging a bit.  She didn't think he was breathing, neither.

 

A gasp for air filled her ears and she realized she had closed her eyes.  Missus Rogers picked her up again and placed her down on her opposite side as she focused on her little boy, who looked like he wasn't breathing even a little bit, all red in the face and panicked as he tried to get air into his lungs.

 

Darcy felt her eyes fill with tears at the idea of Stevie Rogers not breathing anymore and she hoped down off the bench again and squeezed herself against the pew in front of her so she could see Steve again, putting two mostly clean, pudgy little hands on his thighs.  

 

"Just breathe, silly. Breathe!" Darcy screamed at the boy.  And then she blew in his face repeatedly, half air and half spit all on his face.

 

He choked in surprise and took a big gasp of air.  Missus Rogers wasted no time in wrapping him up in her arms and rising.  She took Darcy's hand and quickly made their way out of the church. Stevie stared down at her from his perch against his mother's shoulder, his eyes the size of saucers as he marveled at her.

 

Darcy could do no less than give him the stink eye and stick her tongue out at him.  And when he laughed in return, she grinned. And then itched at the lace on her arms.

 

* * *

 

_ Reality #1, 2018 _

 

"Physically, she shouldn't be alive right now.  It's as if all of her organs shut down at once."

 

"I get that Brucie, I do, but JARVIS has repeatedly sent me hourly reports about her brain waves---"

 

"Yes, Tony the brain waves are the problem.  If her brain was working normally, it would be politely asking her organs to work but it's obviously too busy with something else.  It's fascinating---"

 

"Enough you two, is there any news from Jane and Thor?"

 

"Not yet, but there's the whole, interplanetary space time difference to worry about, Spangles, give it at least an hour or two...Cap?  Woah there big guy, Bruce, gimme a hand this guy weighs more than what a non-suited ME can handle."

 

* * *

  
  


_ Reality Version #581324, year 1334 _

  
  


"You aren't any kind of proper stable boy or squire, you are a girl is what you are!"

 

Darcy of the Town of Lewis wrinkled her dirt speckled nose in annoyance and turned her back on Sleipnir, the fiercest and most fearsome of her Lady's fleet of horses---or rather, her Lady's betrothed's fleet of horses.  Because Lady Jane technically wasn't the Queen of Asgard just yet. She was simply unofficially engaged to the future King of Asgard. He'd gone missing weeks ago in search of his wayward brother, along with the Foster's Steward, Erik Selvig, who was the closest thing to a father Darcy or Jane ever really had.

 

Lady Jane had been desperate to find him, as was Darcy, seeing as they were very much in danger of being burned at the stake for witchcraft.  They had just been doing some innocent reading, and perhaps a little building of highly advanced gears and bits and bobs that may or may not have opened a gateway to outer space.  

 

It was HARDLY witchcraft, but the people were determined to burn Lady Jane and her handmaid Darcy for being witches nonetheless.

 

They ran to Stark Kingdoms, where they hoped to entreat the braves Knight of the Shield to assist them in finding Prince Thor. The problem being that King Stark and the louses of his court would not find Jane worth pursuing, but they had a fondness for handmaidens.  The future Queen Pepper had banned all handmaidens from the castle.

 

So Darcy was playing the part of stable boy instead.

 

Her brown hair was stuffed under a cap.  Her usually pristine and dew-kissed skin was covered in dirt smudges.  She had been wearing britches and a plain shirt and vest, as well as enough binding around her chest to suffocate a lesser man.  She HAD been wearing it. Currently, she had the shirt only, the bindings held in her hands as she could not sleep (or even breathe very well) with it on.

 

"Stevie, you've got drool hanging off your chin, what're you looking at in there?  Did the Swede's horse do something strange?" Another man shouted, heading towards the barn where the sandy haired behemoth of a man was standing.

 

Darcy recognized him as a knight as he blinked at her in red-faced astonishment.  He was the leader of them, actually, if she had recognized their formations the prior night. Sir Steven, Captain of the Shield.

 

"What?" Steve called out distractedly, his eyes darting up and down Darcy's form very quickly.  He had had his suspicions about the Lady Jane's squire. The diminutive 'Fitzwilliam', could barely reach the ankle straps of Sleipnir.  And Steve had been teased ruthlessly by his friends the day before about getting caught out staring at little 'Fitzwilliam's' rear end for a moment longer than necessary.

 

Sam and Bucky had been just as ruthless as their dangerous Lady Natasha was when teasing him.  

 

"Is your little friend in there?" Bucky called out.  "Sam, bring Natasha and come along, let's watch Steve try to woo the stable hand!"

 

Darcy winced and tried to make her eyes look extra large and beseeching and pathetic as Steve's eyes darted from her large and unrestrained bosom back to her face again.  She could not leave her Lady Jane in this kingdom alone. And she could not stay as a woman. She mouthed the word PLEASE and took a deep breath, waiting for Steve to announce her fate.

 

"It's nothing!" Steve hissed back at Bucky.  "The stable boy is asleep---is all."

 

Laughter rang out from wherever Bucky was, joined by Sam.  Natasha seemed wiser for it though, and Steve turned to look at the woman who seemed to know what he had gotten an eyeful of.  

 

"Oh, watch your Angel stable hand sleep, Steve, we will get the patrol reports from the night guard," Sam promised and the laughter faded as the trio walked away.

 

"Thank you," Darcy whispered.  "I owe you so much, Sir."

 

"Yes, yes, you do," he stammered.  "And when your ruse is done and your object met or scheme complete, you may begin by assuring my friends that I am not interested in young boys."

 

"And how might I do that, Sir?" Darcy shook her head in confusion, not understanding how the tall, strong brave Knight was blushing even more profusely.  

 

"Well---in three month time, Stark holds a ball, and it might be nice for you to wear a proper dress and accompany me," Steve blurted out, turning the shade of the pinkest apple from the tree.

 

"I don't know how to dance," Darcy admitted truthfully, blinking up at the Knight with amazement and curiosity.

 

"I don't either, we'll be fools together."

 

* * *

 

_ Reality #956, Year 1930 _

 

"Let's play cops n' robbers!"

 

Bucky Barnes' announcement sent up a cheer among the ten neighborhood kids that he had met two weeks ago when he and his family had moved into Brooklyn.  Well, nine kids cheered enthusiastically, but one crossed her arms in front of her and scowled. The pretty girl was giving him a look of death, honestly, and he might have been offended if he didn't know better.

 

No one hated Bucky Barnes.  He was a charming eleven year old in a world of ten year olds, and they WORSHIPPED HIM.  And he knew the little lady currently scowling at him thought him to be a decent enough fellow. 

 

"What's the little lady's problem?" Bucky demanded of Steve, the little scrap of a guy that Bucky had rescued from getting face punched thirteen days ago.  The tiny Irish kid was the human equivalent of an angry wet bag of cats, though, and he'd thanked Bucky by sassing at him to mind his own beeswax.

 

Bucky had declared small, scrawny Steve Rogers his favorite thing about Brooklyn after that.  Well, now he was his second favorite thing. Because the little girl who dressed in pants, and shoved brown curls under a cap everyday and used more curse words than anyone Bucky had ever met, big or small, was now his official favorite thing.  Even if she was giving him a menacing stink eye at his game proposal.

 

"What's a matter, Darce?" Bucky questioned, despite spending the first eleven years of his life in Indiana, he had quickly adopted the Brooklyn accent and delighted in using it.  

 

"Stuff your ears with wax, Barnes!" Darcy sassed as easily as she breathed.  "I ain't playin' cops n' robbers!"

 

"Darcy don't like the game as much as us," Stevie explained patiently, his sunshiny smile aimed right at the girl he'd grown up side by side with.  They'd been neighbors since they first drew breath and even before they were born. Darcy was just as much a part of his life as his mother was.

 

Though, he didn't think about his mother in some of the ways he thought on Darcy Lewis, that was for sure.

 

"Lewis, you be the damsel and we'll rescue ya!" another of the little boys that made up Bucky Barnes' new crew announced with cheer.

 

"FUCK YOU, McVaugh!" Darcy roared.  "I ain't no damsel and I ain't in any damned distress!"

 

"You're the only one who pisses sitting down, so you are too the damsel in distress!" McVaugh countered.

 

"Fuck you, McVaugh!" Stevie echoed Darcy's sentiment with angry heat, taking a step towards the boy who was taller than him by a few inches.  

 

"Alright---alright," Bucky sighed heavily.  He pointed his finger at McVaugh and the other seven dunderheads and told them, "You're the cops, go down to the end of the block and try to stop me and Stevie from stealing the lady and the treasure...regular rules, once you're dead, you're dead, alright?  No coming back from that, kids."

 

Bucky waved his slingshot in a little circle before putting it in his back pocket.  He kicked a healthy sized pebble at his feet lightly before picking it up and marveling at it as if it were the greatest diamond in the world.  He tossed it to another of his crew and the kid hid the precious gem without needing instruction, tossing it high up on the flat awning of the five and dime before they set up their defenses.  

 

"I ain't playin' if you make her be the damsel," Stevie grumbled irritably as the others ran off.  "So you's gonna have to rob 'em yourself!"

 

"Now, Stevie and Darce, there ain't nothin' wrong with being a damsel," Bucky countered.  He gave them a wink that was far too mature for a boy so young. "Just cause she's a damsel don't mean she can't be swayed to be a helpful, resourceful sort of damsel by her handsome and dangerous captors."

 

He huddled Stevie and Darcy in close and whispered his plan.

 

An hour later, the sun had sunk into the sky enough to cause it to bloom into the beautiful oranges and reds and purples of an Indian summer sunset in Brooklyn.  It was one hour closer to supper time and the need to end the elaborate game of cops and robbers that had occupied the kids while their mothers tended to smaller children and food cookery.  Smells of stews, onions sweating, tomato sauces and all the varied immigrant food from each individual house melding together and wafting out of open windows would not deter the children from their game though.

 

Most of the cops were dead after having been 'shot' by Bucky's sharp shooting skills while Steve 'guarded' their prisoner, Darcy, and simultaneously collected a few sturdy boards that they could use to get to the top of the awning.  They weren't sturdy enough to hold the bruiser that Bucky was, and Steve's physical ineptitude would have had him falling off the one story height.

 

But Darcy Lewis was a great climber.  Like a little graceful monkey.

 

So while Bucky had a standoff with McVaugh, Steve and Darcy built up their little ramp.  Steve stood under it for extra support and Darcy made her way up to the top of the awning and grabbed for the treasure.

 

"Cheat! You're a cheat!" one of the 'dead' cops called out.  "You can't make the damsel do the work for you, Rogers!"

 

"Now, now, he ain't doin' no such thing," Bucky clarified.  "S'like a movie, we kidnapped her and after a little while, she fell for Steve and decided she wanted to help and be a robber too.  Now we're a posse and she can help us steal if she likes."

 

"Ain't noone gonna fall in love with Rogers!" McVaugh scoffed, then howled with annoyance and indignance when Bucky shot him with the charge of his sling shot at point blank range.

 

Darcy scampered down from her perch, tossing Bucky the treasure  before glaring at a now 'dead' McVaugh. Steve was blushing scarlet and looking as angry as he had ever been, but he also looked mightily embarrassed.  And a little sad. 

 

Darcy hated seeing Rogers sad.

 

"Let's go rob a bank, honey-pie!" Darcy announced with a lot of mirth and gaiety.

 

"Whut?" Steve blinked at her, but then he was swept up in her arms in a tight embrace and she was pressing her mouth against his and he nearly went boneless at it.

 

"Holy shit!" McVaugh whispered in awe.

 

Bucky grinned as Darcy kissed Steve into a puddle.  After the first big smack of their mouths, she then went about kissing every square inch of his face.  Bucky pocketed his slingshot before tossing the treasure in the air and making his way over to his two best pals.  Steve was still gooey, but he seemed to be trying to do something in return to Darcy, his hands on the waistband of her short pants and his face moving in chase of her lips, getting them to meet up one more time.

 

"Alright, alright, you two.  C'mon. I can smell my ma's fry up, let's go while it's still warm, yeah?"

 

* * *

 

_ Reality #387633, Year 1943 _

  
  
  


"Quick, honey-pie.  Quick."

 

The young woman's direct order was drowned out by the sound of the orchestra tuning up out front.  Even with his newly enhanced ears, Steve was having quite a bit of trouble hearing her, because his favorite pair of thighs in the world were currently around his ears.  

 

Darcy Lewis, third brunette to the right in the kickline, currently had her hands buried in his hair, her head thrown back against the big red curtain they were using for cover during their clandestine and covert rendezvous.  It was the only privacy they could be afforded, really, twenty minutes before the curtains went up and Steve and Darcy both had to dance for Uncle Sam. 

 

Not that they hadn't tried to find ways to be together before.  They were side by side all day long, but they couldn't even hold hands thanks to the chaperones that were even more dedicated to making sure Steve remained unsullied than Darcy.  She was just a chorus girl, easily replaced by the next up and comer who could fit into her star spangled costume. 

 

There was only one Captain America, after all.

 

And he was currently enthusiastically devouring his favorite (technically) Canadian.

 

"Please, please, Steve, you're gonna kill me," Darcy whined as she rocked her hips against him.  "You gotta rubber, please say you gotta rubber."

 

He suddenly stopped spelling his name on her clit with his tongue and sat back on his heels, his face coming out from under her short costume skirt, wet and shiny and red with exertion.

 

And definitely colored in disappointment.

 

"NO, no, no," Darcy sighed.  "You'd forget your head if it weren't attached, Rogers!"

 

"Collins confiscated them last night when he was packing my bag, being a nosy louse," Steve grumbled.  "Said I wouldn't need 'em."

 

"God damn it all to hell," Darcy muttered.  "I'm gonna short hem all his pants, I swear it."

 

She stared down at him as he licked at his lips, her taste making his eyes go glazed over.  Her hand went from his hair to stroke at his cheek and she couldn't help the warm rush of affection for him.

 

"Oh, just this once, you can pull out," she whispered.

 

"That's not gonna work at all," Steve shook his head.  "The doc said that I could look at a woman and get her in the family way.  I'm not knocking you up, Darce. Not yet. We head to Europe in a two weeks, and then---once the war's over, we'll---"

 

"We'll what?" Darcy was flushing all over, the kind of flushing she usually did after they managed to finish their nightly twenty minutes of privacy (and had condoms).  It started from her chest, her beautiful, bountiful chest, and the red flush bloomed upwards, staining porcelain skin the color of vibrant pink roses until every inch of her was a pretty, accomplished pink.

 

"M'gonna marry you," Steve promised.  "I mean---that is, if you'll have me?"

 

"Course I will, you big dope," Darcy gasped out, her breath coming up short as she went down on her knees so she could pepper his whole face with kisses.  "I love you."

 

"I love you, too Darcy Lewis."

 

* * *

 

_ Reality Version #894310, year 1948  _

 

He hadn't been looking for trouble.  Trouble came to find him. Steve Rogers, disgraced police captain turned detective for hire, never went looking for trouble.  But for once in his thirty-three years, he was glad to see it walking into his dark and dusty little office right above the Chinese noodle shop in Brooklyn.  

 

This kind of trouble was the kind of trouble that Steve could get used to.  She was the kind of dame that was poured into her red silks and satins, all cinched in on her small waist and covering every luscious curve of her ample hour glass frame.  Her legs seemed to go on for miles and he found he couldn't help his fingertips from itching at the thought of peeling those seamed stockings off of her and kissing up every last mile of those gorgeous gams.

 

"Ma'am," he intoned, not meaning to have his voice so haggard with need.  He cleared his throat and squinted as the looker's full red pout went into a playful little smile.  Like a kitten who'd gotten the upperhand in a back alley brawl. Steve knew that look.

 

"No need for honorifics, Angel-boy," Darcy Lewis, because it WAS Darcy Lewis, answered back, her voice still lilting with the high pitch of youth.  

 

She wasn't a scrawny kid anymore though, following him and Bucky around the neighborhood until her parents had passed on and she'd gone overseas to some fancy school for girls in Russia with her old Uncle.   Getting out of Brooklyn had done her some good. She'd grown from a freckle faced thirteen year old tomboy into the most beautiful dame Steve had ever laid eyes on. She held up a small file full of papers and placed it on his desk. 

 

"I know you're missing a friend," Darcy said with a gentle softness, nodding towards the file.  

 

"You're here about Bucky?" Steve reached for the file immediately and opened it. 

 

Bucky had gone missing back in 1945, right at the tail end of the war.  Steve had come home and had to rebuild life without his brother-in-arms.  He hadn't done a good job of it either, because he'd managed to get expelled from the NYPD within two years.

 

In the folder wasn't a picture of Bucky. But there was a glossy black and white photo of a beautiful and striking red-headed woman.  Even with no color, you could see that her hair was a vibrant red, standing next to the raven haired Darcy. 

 

"My cousin, Natalia," Darcy revealed.  Her words came out sharp and quick, just like she used to talk as a little girl, but there was maturity in her ocean blue eyes.  Maturity that had been hard fought for and earned in brutal ways. "She and Bucky have gotten into a bit of trouble with the people who ran my school.  Don't quite know how Bucky ended up there. I go into the room for my final examination and there he is, the Devil-boy of Brooklyn, looking like a hollowed out shell of himself with a metal arm to boot.  And I had to last ten minutes without him strangling me---"

 

"He did what?" Steve interrupted.

 

"It wasn't really him.  Natalia explains it better, but there was very little of the Devil-boy of Brooklyn left in there, Angel," Darcy continued on full steam ahead, even as Steve stepped forward and put a strong hand on her shoulder in support.  "I managed to scrape by cause he recognized me and he said just two words. Get Steve. So, I can't pay your fancy retainer, but I need your help in finding them and rescuing them before they get killed."

 

"Doll, what kind of school would kill a person?" Steve blinked down at her in real concern.

 

"Oh Steve, you sweet Angel-boy," Darcy sighed.  "There's a lot I need to tell you about the Red Room."

 

* * *

 

_ Reality #65, Year 2012 _

  
  


Steve had noticed her when he went barreling out of the building that he had woken up in.  The sight of her standing at reception with a box of red, white and blue decorated sweet treats was something that was now burned into him.  She had looked angrier than a hellcat, arguing with the security person at the desk. 

 

It was probably thanks to her that the security people at the front of the SHIELD building hadn't had a chance to stop a newly awoken Steve Rogers as he made a tear out of the place, right onto the streets of Manhattan in 2011.  She'd kept them occupied with her arguing and righteous indignation, and with them went the last line of defense to keep Steve in the building.

 

He did feel bad that in the rush to spring out of there, he knocked into the security guard slightly, causing a chain reaction that had her cupcakes flying everywhere.

 

Once Director Fury had explained everything and brought him back to headquarters to further debrief him, Steve looked around the lobby for the diminutive, curvy brunette looker in order to apologize to her.  But she wasn't in the lobby anymore.

 

Five hours later, after he had finished with the invasive physicals that SHIELD's doctors had run, he came back to the small room he was to use as quarters until he could be properly acclimated, and sitting on the spartan bedside table were three cupcakes, these with just regular vanilla icing and missing the sparkling red, white and blue the ruined cupcakes had.

 

He was shocked to see the girl he had run into standing in a very specific spot behind the door, hiding from the high tech cameras that Steve now knew were all over the room.  She held up a finger to her ruby red lips and then gave him a friendly smile. 

 

He nodded before sitting on the bed and grabbing one of the cupcakes, he saw a little yellow piece of paper underneath them and read it.

 

_ 'I'm Darcy.  I'm being held here too until I can be processed back into society.  If you want a little freedom, lick the frosting off the top of the cupcake.  Underneath is a key. Meet me at the end of the hall in fifteen minutes and we'll blow this popsicle stand.' _

 

Steve looked back at the girl and she winked at him audaciously.

 

He leaned forward and took a lick of the vanilla frosting.  it was incredibly sweet, almost heavy against his tongue, and sure enough, underneath it all was a key.  Steve looked back up at the girl to smile at her, but she was already gone, silent and unseen. 

 

"Darcy," he whispered before carefully biting at the cupcake so as not to dislodge the key.  If she could get him out of SHIELD's grasp for just a few minutes, he would be sure to thank her for it.

 

* * *

 

_ Reality #1, 2018 _

 

"Cap, Cap, open your eyes, dammit.  JARVIS, anything?"

 

"His neural impulses are cyclical in nature, linking up with Miss Lewis.  They are becoming shorter and more intense. In approximately seven more hours, the cycle will be less than a second."

 

"Shit, that sounds pretty ominous, doesn't it?"

 

"Indeed it does, sir."

 

"Alright, seven hours to make sure we don't lose Cap and Darcy both to multiple universe induced madness.  Go team, go."

 

* * *

 

_ Reality #01101101 01100011 01110101 , 2012 _

 

"NORWAY?!?!  NORWAY?!?!" 

 

"Uhoh," Tony muttered.  He looked around the still wrecked penthouse for a way out.   He looked to Steve, who had looked up at the sound of the feminine shrieking.  "Uhm---Cap, you're about to meet my adopted street urchin. Can you still do that thing that my dad said you could do in the forties?"

 

"Be more specific," Steve demanded.

 

"Smile and look pretty?" Tony offered.

 

Steve rolled his eyes in response.  

 

"Lewis!" Tony clapped his hands together as a small brunette woman came stomping in, followed by another small brunette woman.  "And friend of Lewis. How's things?"

 

"FUCK OFF, TONY!" Lewis answered.

 

"Where's Thor?" the friend of Lewis demanded.  

 

"Uhm----not here?" Tony offered.

 

"Are you kidding me?" Lewis huffed out.  "You sent us to Norway."

 

"I sent you nowhere, that was Agent Agent," Tony held up his hands to protest his innocence.  "And you can't be mad at him for doing it either, Lewis. It's not nice to be angry at the---you know.  Dead."

  
  


All the air flew out of Lewis' sails and she took two steps back until the backs of her legs hit the remains of the shattered coffee table.  Steve reached for her then, to stop her from falling into the shards of glass and twisted metal. She grabbed onto him and looked up, her eyes filling with tears and her mouth twisted as if she had just tasted a bitter lemon.  Steve gave her a commiserating nod before putting big hands on trembling shoulders.

 

"Was he important to you, Miss?" Steve whispered.  The other brunette looked to have the wind blown from her sails and meandered to Tony at the bar, taking the cup of whatever he had already poured for her.

 

"Darcy.  I'm Darcy.  And sort of, I mean---yeah," Darcy nodded.  "It's complicated. But he was like---"

 

"A social worker set about to take care of your needs," Tony answered before knocking back half a tumblr of something dark and amber colored on ice.

 

"He stole a lot of Jane's and my stuff in the name of SHIELD," Darcy mumbled. "But he's been looking out for me since I was nine and tried to kill Tony Stark."

 

"Uhhh," Steve replied smoothly, when he looked back at Tony, he gave him two thumbs up as an answer to Steve's unasked question.  

 

"Ragamuffin," Tony whispered, clinking glasses with Jane.  "Ragamuffin assassin. Long story. We'll tell it to you someday."

 

"Come with me, I'll tell you what happened," Steve gave her a sad smile before pulling her to go towards the balcony.  "You can be very proud, he was quite brave."

 

"No offense, but I'd rather have him alive and cowardly," Darcy mumbled.

 

"Yeah, I've felt that way before about people, and they've felt that way about me too, I'd wager," Steve nodded.  "But a very smart woman once told me that it wasn't my choice to make, and that I oughta respect another person's choice."

 

"Sounds like Aunt Peg," Darcy sighed.  "Smart old broad."

 

Steve laughed, and it felt like the first time he had done so in months.  Or even decades if you counted all that time he had spent inside of the ice.  He gave Darcy a soft smile as she grabbed for his hand, a gesture of a person who was so used to giving affection to others that it seemed like second nature.

 

"So you aren't a ragamuffin assassin anymore, are you?" Steve asked.  

 

"Haven't been since the guy with the metal arm dropped me off on Nick Fury's doorstep," Darcy answered back.  "Well---I mean---besides the one time with Tony, but really, that's just so I could get the guy with the metal arm back."

 

"Huh. Interesting."

 

* * *

 

_ Reality #76867, Year 2014 _

 

"Welcome home, honey-pie!"

 

Steve smiled and closed the closet door on the spare uniform he'd brought home to the little apartment in DC.  He lay the shield down in the living room and turned on the record player as loud as he could. The mission had gone well enough, the Lemurian Star hadn't been a total bust, even with Natasha having her own mission.  He hurried down the hall as the shower began running, and smirked when he saw the glimpse of pale skin before the shower curtain was pulled. 

 

"Don't even think about getting in here with me," Darcy called out in warning.  "I only have about ten minutes of hot water and I've got to get this conditioning oil out of my hair."

 

Steve smirked and managed to at least pull off his socks before pulling back the shower curtain and hopping right in with the rest of his clothing on.  Darcy scowled at him playfully, even with her eyes closed as she tried to quickly get the treatment out of her hair.

 

"You don't listen to direction very well, Captain Rogers," Darcy scolded.

 

"Nope, never have been able to on the things that matter," Steve assured her as he crowded into her, the hot spray of the water quickly soaking his clothing.  His hands went to her hair to help get the conditioner out, even as her hands abandoned the task and went to slide up his wet t-shirt.

 

"I missed you," she sighed.

 

"I was gone eighteen hours," Steve reminded her.  

 

"Eighteen hours, without you, it's like a lifetime," Darcy assured him with that signature lopsided smirk that meant she was serious about her sentiment and half embarrassed that she was entirely serious about the ‘ _ ooey gooey lovey dovey’  _ feelings she held in her heart for him. 

 

Steve sighed and leaned down to kiss her slow and sweet.  Darcy pulled away and looked up at him suspiciously.

 

"Can you stay with your cousin, Laura for a few weeks?" he whispered, knowing that the noise of the shower and the music in the living room might have given them some kind of cover from the bugs that were no doubt all over his SHIELD apartment.  "Fury showed me something today---and I---I've got a bad feeling, Darce."

 

"Course I can," Darcy whispered back.  "Will you be careful?"

 

"I'm always careful," Steve smirked.  

 

"Liar."

 

"I'll always come home to you, sweetheart.  Always."

  
  


* * *

 

_ Reality 98722, Year 2015 _

"STEVE!"

 

"Darce, I'm kinda busy right now..."

 

"STEVEN GRANT ROGERS!  YOU TELL ME WHY THERE ARE ROBOTS TRYING TO KILL ME AND JANE RIGHT NOW!"

 

"Shit---" Steve grunted out as he did his best to take out more of the Iron Legion that this so-called Ultron had created.  He had thought for one second that Darcy and Jane were at least safe, as they couldn't make it to Stark Towers for the impromptu party that Tony had thrown for the recovery of the sceptre.  

 

But of course, they had been on the West Coast, really close to Malibu as Jane went on her lecture tour of the United States.  And there were plenty of Iron Legion to be set evil on that side of the country. 

 

"Is there anywhere you can go, a panic room, a hideout, anything?" Steve asked, sounding a little desperate.  He threw himself at the nearest robot that began taunting him in that creepy voice about there being  _ 'nowhere to run, nowhere to hide'. _

 

The line that was being broadcast through JARVIS' old speakers erupted in the sound of sniper fire and Steve's heartbeat stuttered.  The five seconds of silence that followed were the longest of his life, longer than the time he had spent in that damned tube as the serum and vita rays worked to pull him apart and put him back together again.  

 

"Steve?" Darcy whispered.

 

He exhaled and managed to exchange a look with Thor across the room, the relief spilling over both of their features.

 

"Darce?" he asked.  "What was that?"

 

"A---a friend," Darcy's voice was quiet.  "Tell Sam he doesn't need to head out on that errand after all.  Uhm, I've got what you're looking for here."

 

"Doll, grab the other pretty doll and get your keisters in gear!"

 

Another voice came over the speakers and Steve could have laughed at the sound of it.  Of course Bucky would be shadowing his dame as she went about travelling the world, nearly unprotected except for Heimdall in the sky and Tony's semi-decent private security.  Of course he would be looking out for Steve's heart that had been gleefully handed over to Darcy.

 

"Phone off, we're going dark.  The robots won't be able to---"

  
  


The transmission cut off and Steve gave Thor a nod, conveying that everything was going to be okay.  Jane and Darcy were safe. Jane and Darcy would be safe. The men worked in concert to destroy another robot, and could only do their best in keeping themselves safe as well.

 

* * *

 

 

_ Reality #484769, year 1955 _

  
  


"Principal Coulson's lost it, he's just completely lost his damned mind."

 

Bucky Barnes threw the 1955 Ford Thunderbird into park violently, making his much smaller best friend, Steve Rogers, slide forward on the seat very quickly.  Steve huffed out in annoyance before settling himself back on the seat as Bucky continued to look miserable. 

 

Steve never understood why Bucky was always so sullen.  He was the star running back of the football team, two years running.  He had a line of girls waiting for just a moment of his attention, but all of his attention was focused on Natalia, who Steve knew secretly was paying his attention back behind closed doors.  And Bucky never wanted for anything, even though his parents weren't the richest people in the world. Bucky had four older sisters who had all married very well and had household budgets to use up.  

 

Bucky was living the life.  Steve didn't know why Bucky still spent time with him.  Steve was sickly and small and hardly at the top of the totem pole when it came to popularity.  But his pal was his pal till the end of the line, no matter that Steve was the squarest of the square.  No one would question Bucky for spending all his time.

 

"Well, Buck, maybe we shouldn'ta tried to fill the trophy case up with marbles," Steve wagered.

 

"S'just a prank is all, no skin off his teeth," Bucky huffed out.  "And for that we get a whole day in Saturday detention with the delinquents and riff raff."

 

"And Natalia," Steve drolly asserted.

 

Bucky sat up at attention, his head swiveling on his neck as his eyes darted around the parking lot in search of 'his dame'.  He spotted her walking along the sidewalk, looking absolutely perfect at this ungodly hour of seven in the morning. She was wearing a perfectly full skirt of blue and a smart little white blouse under BUCKY's letterman's jacket.  Her curls were held away from her face by a blue headband, and the smile on her face was gorgeous and mischievous and cat-like.

 

"What'd she do to get a detention?" Steve wondered as Bucky quickly got out of his car.  Steve was less quick to get out, because he could see the girl that Natasha was walking with.

 

Darcy Lewis was wearing skin tight black capri's, but Audrey Hepburn didn't have anything on Lewis, curves wise, for sure.  Her shirt was white with black stripes and she had a ring of fire around her neck, or in reality a small, bright red handkerchief wrapped tightly around her neck, making the exposed skin of her neck and shoulders look like they were the palest and softest silk.  

 

In all reality, Darcy and Natalia shouldn't get along at all.  But here they were walking arm in arm, smiles on their faces. Steve slowly got out of Bucky's car and hung back while Bucky rushed towards Natalia, eager to pull his girl into an embrace before the hell of Saturday detention began.  Natalia wasn't nearly as eager as Bucky, but she kissed his cheek and looked at him with something akin to sultry eyes. 

 

"Rogers," Darcy nodded at him.  "What did you do to get stuck at detention?"

 

"Senior prank," Steve shrugged.  "What'd you do?"

 

"A lady's gotta have a little mystery, Rogers, how's she supposed to nab a special guy without it?" Lewis smirked at him as they began walking up to the school.  "Is it just this cozy quartet? Cause I gotta say, I think you and I are gonna have some free time on our hands while your pal Barnes and my new pal Nat get better acquainted in the supply cabinet."

 

"Uhhhh---" Steve answered back smartly.

 

"Well well well, if it ain't scrawny Steve and the school slut."

 

Steve bristled and looked at the top of the school's steps to see Brock Rumlow and Gilmore Hodge wearing matching sneers as they looked down at them.  Bucky and Natalia had conveniently disappeared---probably back to the Thunderbird to greet each other properly. Leaving Steve to face down the pig headed bullies himself.  Bucky really did have the worst sense of timing in leaving him to his own devices.

 

"See now, I wouldn't say I'm a SLUT, persay," Darcy chirped with mock cheerfulness.  Steve looked out of the corner of his eye and saw her whip a switchblade out of nowhere, twirling it dangerously.  "See, if were a slut, I'd have slept with loads of you high school morons, and you two being the biggest morons would have probably come up on that list, and I'd rather stab myself."

 

Steve snorted at her words and at the other boys taking two hesitant steps back, and wisely so.  Darcy was considered an oddity in their school, for sure. An oddity that Steve found endlessly fascinating, but an oddity all the same.  She had just started a year ago, coming into town with a pack of Swedes or Norwegians or something, and a brilliant lady astronomy professor.  Darcy had no proper parents to speak of, but she did have a gaggle of overly muscled Viking type men to back her up. 

 

And she apparently knew how to twirl a blade in her hands without even blinking an eye.

 

Steve wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he fell a little in love with her then.

 

"I'm gonna have a talk with Coulson," Darcy decided.  "I don't do detention with Neanderthals."

 

"Uhm---maybe put away the knife?" Steve asked hopefully.

 

Darcy looked over at him with a slight scoff and shook her head.  "It's how I got into detention in the first place, Choir Boy. Now come on, let's go and get us a private detention room."

 

* * *

 

_ Reality #1, 2018 _

 

"Darcy?  Can you hear me?"

 

"She can't hear you, Foster.  Her ears aren't transmitting anything right now because her damned body broke up with her brain thanks to your rip in the sky."

 

"It wasn't my rip in the sky, Stark!  Stuff a cork up your ass!"

 

"As fun as that would be to witness, my Jane, focus on Darcy.  She CAN hear you. She is stuck in the fabric of the dimensions, but she can hear us.  And she needs to make the right choice to come back. Choose the right Captain."

 

"You totally just explained to her what I was about to explain to her, Thor."

 

"Woops?”

  
  


"Right---so, Darcy, you kind of whacked Steve into a coma too, and he's going to come for you, you need to pick the right one, or we’ll lose you and Steve to a different freaking dimension."

 

"ooookay.  So, explain to me Point Break, how's she supposed to know which one is the right one."

"The heart will know. — _ Probably _ .”

 

* * *

 

_ Reality #78, Year 2016 _

 

"I'll come with you," Darcy said softly as she stroked Steve's back.  "You shouldn't have to say goodbye to Peggy on your own."

 

"No, no, sweetheart, stay here.  You're not meant to fly when you're so far along," Steve shook his head, pressing his hand against the swell of their child.  "It'll be fine. I'll say goodbye, and I'll meet you at the spot."

 

Darcy sighed and her body tensed slightly, as if gearing up for a fight.

 

"You don't run away, Steve," she reminded him.  "You've never run from anything."

 

"I'm not running," Steve shook his head.  "You've told me everything you know about Thaddeus Ross.  You were the one to warn me when the Accords went into development.  We're not running."

 

"We're not running," Darcy repeated as Steve bent to kiss her forehead and then bent lower to kiss her enormous eight month baby bump.  

 

"We're retiring," Steve whispered.  He straightened up and pulled her into an embrace.  "I'll call you when I've landed in London."

 

"Alright, honey-pie.  I love you."

 

"And I love you."

 

* * *

 

_ Reality #616, Year 2017 _

 

The man in front of her looked different than she had expected him to look.  But then again, she'd really only seen him on television or in the papers. And he'd always been in his slick uniform.  Darcy popped her gum as she watched Steve Rogers, Captain America, look over the menu of the greasy spoon diner that she had been working as a waitress at for just over a year now.  

 

He was adorable, thinking that he was blending in.  His shield was strapped to his back, for Christ Sakes.  What did he think he was hiding?

 

But after everything that had happened, with that other version of Steve who had tried to put the world under Hydra's control, she supposed he deserved a break.  

 

"Heya, honey-pie, what'll you have?" she asked as she walked up to his table.

 

"Coffee?" he asked with a smile.  His cheeks turned pink with a blush when he looked at her, because she was leaning on her elbows on the back of a chair, her cleavage on full display for America's greatest hero.  

 

Darcy liked the look of that blush.  She wanted to nip at it with her teeth and cause it to redden further.  She licked at her lips, watching as Steve's eyes trailed the path of her tongue with all that attention to detail he had.  

 

He'd had a rough year.  She was going to definitely do a good deed (or five) and figure out a way to get him back into the supply room to rock his world.  

 

"Coffee it is," Darcy cooed.  "You give me just a sec to put that together for you, handsome."

 

* * *

 

_ Reality #42, Year 2017 _

 

"Two o'clock, Nomad."

 

Steve twisted his body and managed to clothesline the silent attacker who had come at him.  His grin could barely be made out behind his beard, but it was there and he directed it in the vague direction of the nearest security camera their special ops handler had hacked in order to watch he, Sam and Natasha.

 

" _ Fuck _ , you're hot."

 

Sam snorted a few feet away and Natasha looked about ready to do a cartwheel of obnoxious happiness.  Steve himself chuckled wryly and put his hands on his comm unit.

 

"It's the beard, isn't it?" He asked in a raspy whisper that he knew would do things to the person in the other end of the line.

 

"Dammit, I said that out loud again, didn't I?" Darcy sighed.  "It's a combo of the beard, the hair and the rolled up sleeves. And I don’t want to tell you what the voice is currently doing to my reproductive system."

 

"Rolled up sleeves?  Really?" Steve questioned, staring down at his exposed forearms.  The fabric had torn nine days ago, so he had just shoved both sleeves up for practicality’s sake.  

 

"Mmmmmmm," Darcy moaned over their secure communication channel that they used for these covert, non Accords sanctioned, non Avengers ops.  

 

"Alright, enough," Sam called out.  "Let's finish this up and then you can ogle his forearms all you want."

 

"Wanna see what they look like when his hands are in my pants," Darcy murmured.

 

Steve's jaw dropped at that and Darcy cursed.

 

"Shit, I said that out loud again, didn't I?"

 

* * *

 

_ Elsewhere, Some other time _

 

Hundreds of images of Steve, young and old, seemed to be seared onto the back of her eyelids as she blinked her eyes open, looking around in confusion.  She was on her back, staring up at the bleeding tear in the sky and managed to get herself sitting straight up. She could see them in the distance. Every version of him.  Waiting for her.

 

There were millions of threads out there.  Billions maybe. And a tiny portion of those threads were ones where she'd met Steve.  It had all felt so real. It had all been so good, even when it was sad. That man didn't do love halfway, and Darcy knew that she was no slouch when it came to giving her heart either.  When they got it right, which was often, it was so good. 

 

She could see them materializing in the distance, walking towards her.  All of her Steve's, even the littlest, youngest one. Walking towards her with love in their eyes, ready to take her home.

  
  


She really liked the looks of the few  that were still skinny and short. She bet he was fun to rile up.  One of them outpaced the others, and he wasn't wearing a fun Captain America outfit.  He was just wearing track pants and a woefully NOT tight t-shirt. He ran to her and knelt in front of her, looking over her entire body for injury.

 

"This was weird," he whispered.

 

"I liked when I got to bang you in that diner storage room," Darcy whispered back.

 

"You ready to go home now?" Steve held out his hand to her, ready to haul her to her feet and figure out how to get out of this dimensional shift.  “Not that I minded being that gumshoe fella, but I think it’s important to go back home.”

 

"But---skinny tiny Steve?" Darcy looked around her Steve, who she was pretty sure was the one who had tried to save her from the bleeding sky bits earlier.  He was the right one.

 

"You'd have him dead on his back with a smile on his face in less than a week," Steve laughed.  He waved his hand in front of Darcy's face again, wiggling his fingers just a little at her. "C'mon sweetheart.  Don't we deserve a shot at this ourselves?"

 

"Yeah?" Darcy questioned, taking his hand and allowing him to pull her body up and off the ground.  He held her close and the light was back again, the same one that had been there before. "You better kiss as good as you did when you were five, Honey-pie."

 

"I'm sure I can muster up the right kind of enthusiasm, Darce.  Just need to give me a chance."

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have to tell you, that the excellent au noir detective and 50's breakfast club came from ragwitch/queenspuppet and I listened to noir detective movie music while writing that bit and now I really want to write that story!
> 
> which one do you want me to write?
> 
> thanks for reading!!!


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